


Spades

by run_jhope_run



Series: House of Cards [1]
Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Depression, Gangs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Psychological Trauma, Shooting, lots of deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/run_jhope_run/pseuds/run_jhope_run
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The colour my heart goes when I see you."</p><p>Although death has followed Jongin around his whole life, Taemin isn't afraid of getting close to him.</p><p>~~~<br/>Also posted on AFF and Wattpad under the title 'Orange Means Sunrise'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spades

**Author's Note:**

> If you can't deal with sad fiction, DO NOT READ THIS.

Jongin's back was soaked with sweat. He grimaced at the pain in his hands as he kept shovelling. His shoulders were aching and burnt. His arms, already strong, had been strengthened by the exercise. Again and again, his spade thudding into the soil and throwing it into the hole in the ground, not paying attention to his activity as he shovelled.

He slid a hand down his slippery, bare back and stood up. He looked at his work and made a sound that could only be described as a moan.

Hopeless.

He threw his spade to one side and fell to his knees. His fingers caressed the erect stone.

He pressed his face against the cool granite; cool for summer. He found words etched into one side.

Jongin knew them by heart. He didn't even have to think - even if he'd wanted to - to know them. He'd written them.

All of his tears had been spent, replaced by an ache that consumed his entire body.

His lips found the stone's hard surface and attached themselves. He knew it was useless, but he wanted the lips imprisoned by this merciless block.

He cradled it.

Kicked it.

Cried in pain.

Jongin couldn't do anything. The pain would never stop. It wasn't just in his foot, but in the row of stones before him.

Four.

/

"And then you just pour it into the pan." Jinki guided Jongin's hands to pour some of the mixture into the frying pan.

The younger gave him a look of complete admiration. "Can I flip it?" he asked, placing a shy kiss on Jinki's nose.

Jinki held Jongin by the waist and kissed him properly, on the lips. Jongin pulled away and nervously ran a hand through his own hair.

"You're so cute," Jinki laughed. He leaned across and whispered in his boyfriend's ear. "Make sure the pancakes don't burn."

Jongin jumped back, as if scalded. "If they are burnt, you're getting those pieces," he giggled.

"We need lemon juice," Jinki said, clicking his fingers. "I'll go to the corner shop."

"Can I come?" Jongin asked, unpinning Jinki's apron.

"I'll just be a minute, and you have to watch the cooker." Jinki paused at the door. "I, um, miss you already."

The door slammed.

And there was a bang.

/

Jongin lifted his tired head from the stone to look at Jinki's. His first love, his 'high school crush'. Jinki had been a few years older than him, in Sixth Form, yet he'd been so gentle with Jongin's young heart.

And then he was shot.

Jinki had lived in a rough area. There had been gangs.

That was no reason for him to have died.

Next to him was different kind of stone. Jongin pretended it was marble.

Jonghyun deserved nothing less than diamond.

He'd dragged Jongin away from Jinki's grave for a new life, a new love.

/

Jongin squealed, writhing under Jonghyun's evil fingers. "Get off me! Jjong!"

Jonghyun smirked and straddled the younger boy's waist. "Not until you smile."

"I'm not gonna smile, I'm not gonna smile!" Jongin squealed, pulling his mouth into a straight line defiantly.

Jonghyun slid his hands up Jongin's top and began tickling his stomach. "Jjong!" Jongin shrieked.

"That's hyung to you." Jonghyun looked Jongin straight in the eye.

"Sure." Jongin grabbed Jonghyun's collar, pulled him closer and cheekily licked behind the older boy's ear.

Jonghyun stared down at the boy lying on his bed. "So that's how it is," he murmured. He bent and kissed Jongin.

There was no sound throughout Jonghyun's parents' large house, spare the ticking of a clock. There was only Jonghyun, making the love of his life smile.

/

Kim Jonghyun had many problems. He hid them well, but they had to end.

He drowned them, one night, and was buried, quite coincidentally, next to Jinki.

Jongin touched the stone next to the one he was leaning against.

It had taken him a while to love again. Kibum was persistent, cute, and he knew a few things Jongin didn't.

These things cost Jongin his virginity. He didn't mind. He was twenty, at university, and everyone was doing it.

And it was Kibum.

/

"I'm bored," Kibum said, swinging his legs to and fro over the edge of Jongin's bed.

Jongin looked up from his work. "I have a hundred words left," he said. "Please be patient."

"I wanna go to a party." Kibum pouted.

An hour later, Jongin found himself standing outside the house of one of Kibum's popular friends. He could smell lives being wasted from the door.

Kibum grabbed Jongin's hand. "Let's go get you something to drink, eh?"

Jongin was grateful Kibum's grasp never lost his wrist, through smoke and countless people. Kibum begged him to dance, but Jongin couldn't see any room.

"Let's go outside," he shouted over the music.

In the back garden, they found a pack of unopened beers, one of which Kibum opened instantly.

"Um, are you going to drink that?" Jongin asked, nervously.

"It's part of the party," Kibum said. "Do you want some?"

"I've never drunk before. Or been to a party."

Kibum opened a second can with a hiss. "No wonder you look so awkward. Here, drink."

Jongin shook his head. "I'm fine."

Scoffing, Kibum took a gulp, then clasped Jongin's face in two hands. He made their lips meet before forcing the alcohol, he'd kept in his mouth, down Jongin's innocent throat.

They parted with a few pants, both grinning broadly.

"Okay," Jongin said. "Let's do this."

/

Jongin's first drink was with Kibum, and his last. He vowed never to drink alcohol ever again, standing at Kibum's grave.

The day he was told that Kibum wasn't going to make it out of the hospital was the strongest of his memories. He'd tried to get the elder to attend support groups - getting called a loser and a party-pooper - but in the end it was Kibum's liver that gave in.

Lastly . . .

Jongin wasn't sure he could do this. The wounds were still so fresh.

He'd known that Choi Minho was trouble. He was part of the gang who'd been involved in a shootout with another, in which Jinki had died. He hadn't been part of it at the time, but he was in the gang now.

Minho rode a motorbike. He wore leathers and played football aggressively.

And he'd fallen for the broken Jongin.

Jongin, who was on the border between life and death, mourning, mad. He hated everyone and everything. He especially hated the tall, cheerful boy who put his life back together.

/

"Babe, come back to bed," Minho implored, watching Jongin put his shoes on.

"I have to go to work," Jongin said, sighing. "And quit calling me that."

"Babe, babe, babe . . ."Minho teased. Jongin ignored him, but just as he was about to close the door, Minho yelled, "Kim Jongin, love of my life, come back to bed!"

Jongin let out a huff. He stood by Minho to give him a goodbye kiss, but Minho pulled him onto the bed.

"I love you," Minho murmured into Jongin's hair. He wrapped a hand around the younger and pinched his backside. "You have a nice butt, too."

Jongin placed his hands more comfortably on either side of Minho's head. "I should go," he whispered.

"Fine." Minho reached for the lipstick Jongin had bought him as a joke. He rubbed it over his lips and undid the top button of Jongin's shirt.

"Hey, I was gonna--" Jongin was cut off by a kiss under his collarbone. He looked down and saw that Minho had left a lipstick mark, when he detached his lips again.

"Don't wash it off, okay?" Minho said, buttoning up the shirt and straightening Jongin's tie. Then he became more business-like. "I'll be at the garage today, so I won't be home until six."

Jongin stood up and glanced at the clothes lying around their bedroom. "Have you ever heard of tidying?"

/

Minho wasn't Jongin's type. He wasn't who Jongin would spot in a crowd, or drool over. He was just perfect for Jongin.  
And he kept his promises. Coming home early for their anniversary? Minho came home early enough to make dinner instead of buying takeaways. Remembering Valentine's Day? Minho got Jongin flowers.

Every year, for Valentine's Day, they bought identical cards for each other, always by accident.

They fitted so well together. After only a year of their relationship, they moved in together.

Jongin clutched Minho's stone. He needed to be back in his arms. He needed Minho to breathe down his neck. He needed it to be them, together, in the now empty apartment.

/

Jongin looked down at his phone. Minho had said he'd be out, possibly all night.

There were two texts.

21:56: They said we're going to the Greys' side. It's a death trap.

21:59: I'm gonna give it up. Jongin, I swear, I'm coming straight home.

Jongin hated this. He hated when Minho did stuff with his gang. He hated waiting.

When Minho entered, he seemed distracted. His hair was messed up, and he kept pacing.

Jongin placed a cup of tea in front of Minho. He took a breath. "Are you going to tell me what's up?"

"Yes." Minho rubbed his eyes briefly, before getting to his knees. He held Jongin's hand. "Kim Jongin, will you fly with me to Paris and marry me?"

Jongin bit his lip. "Minho . . . I . . . this is sudden."

"We've been living together for years," Minho whispered. "Did you honestly think that it had never crossed my mind?"

Jongin stared at his boyfriend. He found words tumbling out of his mouth.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Is that a yes?" Minho asked, threading his fingers though Jongin's.

"Yes." Jongin waited for a response. "Yes!"

Minho put a hand to his face; it came back wet. He grinned, bursting into tears. "I love you." He hugged the younger boy tightly.

/

And that was where he made his mistake.

/

He told Jongin to pack - they'd be leaving for France the next morning.

/

Fine.

/

He kissed Jongin.

/

Fine.

/

"I just have to do something. Finish some business. I'll be right back."

/

Not fine.

But Jongin let him go.

Down to the Reds' headquarters, to face the ringleader.

To hand in his badge.

To be spat at.

Jongin looked at the stone in pain. He could have stopped it.

He only had hazy details of what happened next.

The ringleader had told Minho he couldn't leave. That he'd have to shoot him.

And Minho asked for one last request.

/

00:03: Jongin, my hands are shaking as I write this. I think I'm gonna die. I can't leave you alone.

00:04: I love you.

/

Minho had probably tried to plead. He probably tried telling them that he had a lover at home, a fiancé who'd suffered so much.

Jongin had heard that Minho tried to make an escape.

And they'd shot him.

/

Jongin heard the shot. He dropped his phone and raced down the stairwell outside their flat. At the bottom, he saw a body in the road.

Minho.

Jongin saw blood.

He ran to his lover. Minho's eyes were screwed shut, there was wound in his side, but Jongin saw the slightest movement.

"Jongin?" Minho murmured weakly.

"It's me," Jongin said. His voice cracked and a bubble rose in his throat.

"Phone an ambulance."

"Already have."

Jongin pressed his lips to Minho's in a valiant attempt to calm him. He felt Minho cough, and smoothed the elder's hair down.

"I c-can't die!" Minho half-screamed.

Jongin shushed him. "You're not going to die." Even as he said those words, he was lying to himself.

"I can't leave you alone," Minho begged. "Jongin, I can't let you get hurt anymore . . ."

"Don't make this about me."

"Can't you see?" Minho demanded. "All I care about is you."

Jongin found Minho's hand and kissed it. "And all I care about is you."

Minho smiled faintly. "The ambulance is never going to come, is it?"

Jongin looked around. "It will. I called it."

"Kiss me one last time."

"I'm gonna kiss you every day for the rest of your life. Every month, every year."

Minho fixed him with a terrified look. He grabbed Jongin's hand. "I'm scared . . ."

Jongin kissed him softly. "Don't be scared . . . don't be scared . . ."

He pulled his face away and looked.

Minho let a tear fall down his cheek before his eyes turned glassy. His last breath appeared as smoke in the cold, midnight air.

And Jongin sobbed.

/

Jongin felt a hand on his back. He turned and saw a pretty boy standing behind him.

"Taemin," he groaned, shielding his eyes.

Taemin found Jongin's t-shirt lying in the grass and pulled it over the younger boy's head. "Arms through . . . arms through."

Jongin let his head fall onto Taemin's shoulder as they embraced.

"He's not coming back," Taemin said.

Jongin swallowed.

"I brought flowers." Taemin broke away from Jongin and showed him a small bunch.

Jongin pulled a red one from Taemin's hand.

"Love," Taemin explained, "for Jinki."

"Blood." Jongin knelt and placed it by Jinki's grave.

Taemin handed Jongin a second flower. Black. "Sadne--"

"Water." Jonghyun had drowned.

Jongin laid it by Jonghyun's grave.

A third one - yellow - was for Kibum. "Friendship," Taemin explained.

"Alcohol."

Taemin stole Jongin a glance, before giving him a white rose. "Minho."

"No reason?" Jongin asked, pushing a thorn slowly into his finger.

"I thought you could decide."

"Tr--" Jongin buried his face in his hand. "True love. We . . . loved each other." He laid the rose before the gravestone, and wiped the blood it had yielded from his finger across the inscription.

He looked at Taemin. "There's one left."

"It's for you." Taemin's hands shook as he handed it over. "The colour my heart goes when I see you."

"Orange?"

"It's like a sunrise." Taemin smiled. "New beginnings." He turned to leave.

"Taemin."

He looked back. Now or never.

"Jongin, I'm going to live."

Jongin grabbed Taemin's hand. "What?"

"No more radiotherapy." The older boy stifled a sob. "It worked. I'm cured."

Jongin's eyes crinkled into the first smile in weeks. "It's a new beginning for you too."

"Maybe, when you're ready . . ." Taemin's voice trailed away.

"I am." Jongin pressed a hand to Taemin's face. "Let's make this a new beginning together."

**Author's Note:**

> I told you.
> 
> Sound track: House of Cards (BTS)


End file.
